


With My Hands Open

by HindsightHero



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Cabeswater is a questionable voyeur?, Cabeswater moodswings, Kissing in the Rain, M/M, Setting - The Dream Thieves, The Raven King Spoilers, arboreal feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-26 18:18:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10792110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HindsightHero/pseuds/HindsightHero
Summary: When they kiss, Cabeswater blooms. Thunder cracks and it’s like the world too has cracked open. It’s a wasp nest splitting, a stone splashing, and branches falling behind Adam's eyes. And it’s energizing. It’s electrifying, it’s—It’s familiar.Why thefuckis it familiar?





	With My Hands Open

**Author's Note:**

> Set vaguely after Adam's fugue incident in D.C. in which, we all know, Gansey was worrying himself sick.
> 
> Pretty much entirely written to Hands Open by Snow Patrol

 

 

       Adam clenches his fist until his nails dig into his skin and his knuckles go white, and he prays to whatever, whoever might be up there, that he does not punch Gansey square in his handsome, golden-boy jaw.

       It wasn’t a foreign feeling. Adam’s been there before. Too many times that he cares to recount. Sometimes he thinks it’s because it’s just a part of his nature. Something burrowed deep and nestled between the sinew and bones of his embarrassingly lanky body. The same toxic sort of muscle memory that defines his less-than-royal stock.

        Other times, he’s reminded Gansey is just an out of touch asshole.

        Currently it’s a bit of both, and so Adam is frozen while Gansey’s hazel eyes just stare at him from across the dusty summer pavement in front of St. Agnes while gray clouds gather behind him.

        “Don’t look at me that way,” he tells Adam, and his mouth is a flat line. Disapproving, and it makes Adam want to lunge.

        “What, you want to control my eyes now too? You jealous of Cabeswater?”

        He spits it, and he doesn’t mean it. But he also does. Everything lately seemed to boil down to that stupid pact of his. And besides, it’s easier for Adam to accept the rage pumping its way through his veins when he could boil Gansey down to a spoiled brat. A collector king.  
       Kings don’t care about their servants.

        But Gansey’s eyes grow soft. “Stop it.”

        Adam keeps still, and tightens his fist.

        “I’m not sorry,” he says, and Gansey’ gaze is still entirely focused on him. “For not beckoning every time you call.”

        Gansey seems taken aback. Then, mildly offended. “You think _that’s_ why I’m here?”

        Here, Adam note. Not mad.

       It reminds him that Gansey’s not the one with a stance ready to brawl.

        “Isn’t it?”

        “Adam…” Gansey says and his name is like a sigh splitting the air between them. “We’ve been worried sick. I—,” he stops and looks at the dirt. When he looks back, there’s no mask. No effort to keep face. The hurt is too clearly painted. “I was worried sick.”

       “You don’t need to be.”

        “No?” Gansey asks, and his eyes drift to Adam’s ear. It’s only a fraction of a second. A missable motion, but he still catches it.

        “Go home Gansey.” Adam tells him as the wind picks up, making a mess of the other’s brown hair.

        His nerves are on edge and he hates it. How his body is being flooded, and Adam knows that ever since his pact with Cabeswater, there’s just too much energy inside of him. Especially when he’s around Gansey.

       Adam knows enough about himself to see that Cabeswater had been taking its toll on his emotions. That it took what it needed, whenever it needed it, and had no qualms about doing so. He had sacrificed himself after all. Why should it give a damn?

        “Just go home,” he repeats. “It’s not like you care anyways.”

        Gansey visibly stops.”Why don’t you think that I care?”

        He didn’t mean for Gansey to hear that part. But he knew Gansey would have been listening close. Adam tries to force himself to relax. “Because you don’t”

        “Is this about Blue?”

        His shoulders tense again. “I don’t want to talk about her.”

        “Then what do you want to talk about?”

        “Honestly? At this point, whatever will get you to leave.”

        Gansey frowns. “You know I don’t talk about impossible things.”

        On anyone else it would have sounded ridiculous. Adam knows this because even on Gansey, it sounds ridiculous. Something too poetic. But this, Adam reminds himself, is Gansey, and he can get away with anything.

        Just not today.

        When Adam steps closer to the Camaro, Gansey holds his ground.  
  
       “Then tell me, is _this_ what you want?” Adam asks as he raises a hand to shove at the other man’s shoulder. “What you came here expecting? To see me prove that I’m no better than the shit I move out from?”

       Gansey moves with the motion, even as Adam shoves him again, and his hands find themselves resting on the side door of the Pig.

       “Because I’m pretty sure I already did a _swell_ job of that already in Washington,” Adam continues.

        “I’m just glad you were okay,” says Gansey. And somehow this makes Adam even angrier. Because he _knows_ how embarrassing it was. How much of a complete ass he looked in front of his family and their tailored suits and champagne flutes. It’s something he can never hope to take back. That no magic in the world can erase.

        Adam shoves him harder, until Gansey’s back slams against orange coated metal. “No you’re not!” he says through grit teeth. “I was a laughing stock and you _know_ it.”

        “You didn’t know what you were doing. You could have been hurt or—”

        “I don’t care!” The words rip from Adam’s throat.

        “Well I do!”

        Something knocks against the Camaro, and takes him a moment, but Adam realizes it was Gansey’s fists. It’s the first time Gansey has shouted tonight, and Adam doesn’t know how that makes him feel. If this was what he wanted.

       “I was _terrified_ and I’m still terrified that Cabeswater’s going to do something again.”

        Adam pulls back. “Yeah well, it’s not your problem.”  
  
       “You were there because of me.”  
  
       “I was there because we all were,” says Adam coldly, even as Gansey step forward and closes the distance between them yet again. “It was my choice. Not yours.”  
  
       “I know that,”  
  
       “Then stop pretending you have any control over it!”  
  
       “I just want to _help_.”

       Gansey has a way of looking at people and making them scared he would die for them. Not theoretically. But truthfully. Without hesitation. Right now he’s looking at Adam as if if there was a wasp filled bus hurtling toward them, and he had already leapt in its path. He’s just pleading for Adam to move.

       And Adam _hates_ it.

        “I’m not something that needs saving, Gansey. I’m not worth it so just stop it, would you?!”

        With another thud, Gansey is forced back against the Camaro. A second shove coming from Adam’s calloused hands, and even _that_ doesn’t get Gansey to stop giving him that look. It just seems to encourage him further.

        He’s being righteous again, Adam thinks, he could punch him and Gansey probably wouldn’t even flinch. He would just take it, and he would stare, never looking away, never ceasing in his composure even as the bruise slowly formed on his cheek.

        The thought turns his stomach, and Adam wonders if aside from the wasp stings, Gansey’s ever been bruised before in his life.

       He wonders if Gansey’s finally disappointed in him.

       What it would take to make him disappointed beyond all repair.

        Something in him recoils at the thought. As if it’s all now been taken one step too far and somehow Gansey isn’t under his grip, pinned down by an invisible force. But he is, and he looks nothing like a king, Adam thinks. He looks too honest. To open. Vulnerable.

        Perhaps, even more than that, he’s handsome like this, and before he can catch it a frustrated sound escapes Adam’s throat. One of embarrassment and anguish. Of something he doesn’t have the words to explain but even still he can feel it. The anger growing ,and he wants to fight it. He hates that it only gets this way around Gansey. How his emotions seem to lose all control and Adam, usually so logical, gets boiled down to a confused and erratic mess of practically every sin imaginable.

       It’s just Cabeswater, he tell himself, but he doesn’t know why.

       Why it’s only like this around Gansey.

        Suddenly there’s a hand on his back, and Adam realizes that Gansey has reached up to hold him still. Not to push him, not to shove him aside. But just to hold him there, hovering, their bodies inches apart and every bit of Adam;s body hot and seething in the low pressure of the approaching storm.

        Gansey’s grip tightens, and it pulls Adam down.

 

       When they kiss, Cabeswater blooms. Thunder cracks and it’s like the world too has cracked open. It’s a wasp nest splitting, a stone splashing, and branches falling.  A flashing dreamscape behind Adam’s eyelids comprised of colors and vines and leaves, shifting like a kaleidoscope. Weaving it’s way between his ribs and to every inch of his skin. And it’s energizing. It’s electrifying, it’s—

       Adam stops.

       It’s familiar.

       Why the _fuck_ does it feel familiar?

        The thought doesn’t linger, not long enough to fully process, because something inside of Adam’s chest tugs - something verdant and arboreal- and it twists and he’s weak against it. Weak like everything else to do with Cabeswater. His body follows through, pressing closer to Gansey like a craving. Pressing Gansey and his Polo back against the dusty exterior of the Pig with his hips, and from this distance he can smell Gansey. Not the ordinary mint. Not his cologne but everything dirty just like him. The smell of humidity mixing with his hair gel— the salt of sweat and pollen clinging to it.  

        Adam Parrish has never pictured kissing Gansey. He never permitted himself the thought, though he’d be lying if the temptation wasn’t there. They were opposites in every conceivable way. Him a broken, sharp edged thing and Gansey untouchable and regal. A statue impervious to the world’s dangers.

        Classics would have probably likened him to Achilles or something, but in truth Adam preferred Baldr. Golden, glimmering, adored.

       Shot down by mistletoe of all things. A plant that the gods thought too innocent to do harm.

       Something people now just associate with a kiss.

       Hell, it was even his brother who shot him.

 

       Adam understands because he knows Gansey. He knows every crack and hollow point that makes him mortal. Every spot in him that’s weak and eager to bend just to see a smile. To solve a problem and be a hero.

        Sometimes, when the jealousy and the anger would mix late at night in his parent’s trailer Adam would let himself imagine what it would take to destroy a man like Gansey. It wasn’t a nice thought. And it certainly wasn’t the sort of thought friends were supposed to think about each other. But half of the time Adam struggled to admit they were friends in the first place. That a person like Gansey, who could get by in society with a collection of hideous overpriced polo shirts and get nothing but a shower of compliments in return, would think of him as anything less than a temporary convenience. Another hand in the hunt for Glendower. A free repairman when the Pig broke down.

        Gansey lets out a sound, and it vibrates through Adam’s lips and into his throat. A sensation that shoots through him and makes him see stars and feel the earth shift and force every previous thought to be forgotten.

        A part of Adam isn't sure if he wants to open his eyes. Because he can feel Gansey’s eyelashes on his skin, and the tacky, humid touch of his cheek. But behind his eyelids there’s still Cabeswater, eager, searching, fighting, _thriving_ , and he doesn’t understand. It doesn’t feel real. Underneath of him, Gansey shifts his mouth, parting his lips as his fingertips press beyond the cheap cotton of his t-shirt and align with his ribs, and Adam feels himself surge forward.

        Gansey’s gotten soft, he realizes, now that he’s stopped doing Crew and has been spending more time at Nino’s eating avocado pizzas. It’s not bad, Adam thinks. It’s surprisingly nice. Comforting even. But he’s never been this close to Gansey to be able to compare it properly.

        The wind picks up around them, signalling the arrival of the storm and carrying with it a cool and dangerous scent that both of them ignore until finally, the sky let’s loose and there’s the icy sting of a raindrop on the back of Adam’s neck.

        “Ah—” he says, and his boney fingers reach up, gripping Gansey’s arms tightly to push him away. “S-Stop.”

        Gansey, with his lips red and slick and unfairly parted, simply _stares_ at him. Oblivious to how his hair is getting darker, and his shoulders speckled.

        He’s got his thinking face, Adam realizes. About thirty varieties of concern and questioning and analytics racing their way quietly through the muscles of his face. And Adam knows it. He can picture it a hundred times over. Furrowed brows, and a lower lip being stroked absently as Gansey poured over his Glendower journal in Monmouth, or as they did their Math homework and he was stumped on a problem.

        But Gansey’s hands are still holding warmly onto his side, his thumb against Adam’s rib, and as the thoughts begin to process it moves ever so slowly along the bone.

        Almost instinctively Adam’s hand moves from Gansey’s arm and over to his face. And he lets his own thumb reach out, and brush over Gansey’s lower lip. The motion is slow, and slick from their spit.

       His spit.

       The thought makes Adam’s heart skip a beat, and the forest flashes behind his eyes.

        When he comes to, Gansey’s looking at him, eyes wide, and Adam’s thumb is still there, paused and hesitant.  And then it’s inside of Gansey’s mouth.

        And _sweet Jesus_ does the world disappear.

        Gansey’s tongue glides over the tip of Adam’s thumb, and it’s wet and warm and he think’s how it’s far too good of a sensation than it has any right to be. How dangerous. He can feel where Gansey’s teeth scrape against his flesh, and as Gansey sucks him in further Adam feels the metal bar of his lower retainer and it’s odd. It’s not bad, he thinks. But it’s odd... Because it’s just another hidden part of Gansey that Adam never considered.

        And then, like that, it’s gone, and below him Gansey’s cheeks have grown red and flustered, and there’s _still_ spit on his lip.

        “I—” Gansey begins, his voice breathy, and his fingers clutching at Adam’s shirt. “I’m sorry. That was ru—”

 

       Before he can convince himself not to, Adam’s mouth is back on Gansey’s, only this time it’s hungrier, and more certain and Adam feels like this time he’s really, truly lost control to Cabeswater.

        Because it is bright, and joyous, and infectious in it’s euphoria, but deep inside of himself Adam is screaming that this is horrible and he is _terrified_. But their teeth clash,and their tongues meet and the thunder rolls before Gansey takes in a sharp breath through his nose and his entire body shudders against Adam.

        Gansey is lost in it. Adam can tell. His hands are roaming Adam’s back in a frantic force, searching for a grip tighter than the one before. Closer. Better. His lip slips between Adam’s teeth and as he tugs, Gansey let’s out a sound that Adam never thought he’d hear beyond the confines of internet amateur porn.

        Adam doesn’t even have to try to set the pace because as soon as they began, Gansey relinquished every bit of the control to him. Nothing about the kiss is elegant he realizes. How their bodies shift and their mouths move and slip and readjust, but he doesn’t care.  Not until Gansey breaks for a breath, and rests their rain soaked cheeks together.

       Not until his breath ghosts along Adam’s good ear with a soft yet resonant, “Adam…”

        Then, Cabeswater disappears, and like a switch has been flipped Adam is back, and his heart is racing. Blue eyes staring widely down at hazel , frozen, and Adam feels how his nose and eyes begin to sting in an entirely different loss of control and every bit of feeling slams back into him.

       Adam can almost _see_ what they must look like, there, just on the side of the road and in plain sight. Every impossible angle and misreading. Every _accurate_ interpretation of what it was they had just done.

        It has not been raining for very long but already there are puddles on the street that leads away from St.Agnes, and as he runs Adam’s tennis shoes leave a splashing trail behind him. But he knows that if he didn’t run, his body would be shaking from rage. Trembling in a sort of self-hatred and betrayal that’s probably only familiar to someone like Ronan.

       Fuck, Adam thinks.

       Ronan.

        He doesn’t dare to look back. Instead Adam lets the rain slam into his face, and he wills that the rolling thunder swallow up every gasp of air and horrid sound that has a chance to escape his throat.

      
        But then there’s a tug at his shirt, and an arm around his waist and Adam struggles not to slip on the pavement.

        “I said wait,” comes Gansey’s voice behind his ear, and he’s just as out of breath as Adam, and he feels it as the other man swallows. Finally, Adam stills.

        His body shivers, and his hands form fists again. His spine locks.

       “Let go of me,” he says, and after a pause, Gansey does.

        Adam turns sharply on his heels and Gansey steps away just enough so he doesn’t slam into him. “Why the hell did you follow me?”

        Gansey takes a moment, and Adam looks furious, he knows he has to. But Gansey only looks soaked to the bone. His hair flat, and his skin cold. Adam really doesn’t want to think about what that must mean for himself.

        “Why did you run?” Gansey asks, and its desperate. It’s so desperate for an ounce of understanding. “What did I do? I thought—”

        “This isn’t about you!” Adam shouts, and his hands reach up to cover his ears as his eyes shut and block everything out. He’s a mess. It’s embarrassing. He knows that.

          
       He wants Cabeswater to come back. To force him outside of himself just so he can stop feeling whatever it is that is starting to rise in his chest. Because he can’t do this, Adam realizes. He can’t accept that it was _Gansey_ who just kissed him. How it’s the feeling of _Gansey’s_ tongue against his own that’s now fading away from his memory and leaving him feeling empty and hollow.

        His knees give way before he can process it, and Adam finds his fingers clawing at the damp earth on the side of the road. He can feel how the mud is caking into every crevice of his palms and it’s all that’s keeping him sane. All that he can focus on.

        Everything in his soul is tired. Exhausted from work, and from Aglionby, and the echoes of his fight with Blue. His fight with Ronan, with Gansey, with everyone lately—  and this is the last thing he needs. The last thing he deserves and Adam cannot take it.

        Cabeswater has taken everything, and as his fingers dig deeper into the dirt, Adam tries to let it take this. Whatever thoughts are racing and tearing him apart, he wants Cabeswater to take them. Because he just can’t do it anymore. There’s no more control left to lose. Not now. Not as his last good pair of work pants get stained in the Virginia mud.

        Gansey kneels down, his hands extending out to rest on Adam’s shoulders. “Look at me.” he orders, and Adam tries to shove him off. Away from him, because how _dare_ he use that tone of a voice in a time like this.

       But Gansey doesn't relent. “Adam, “ he insists. “Just… Just tell me why this is so wrong.”

        This.

       The word echoes.

        The first thought is to say that it’s because of Blue. That’s the easy answer. Gansey would probably leave him alone after that. He could even tell him it’s because of Ronan. Or be honest and try and explain Cabeswater.

         But he doesn’t need to.

         Instead Gansey looks at him, getting more soaked by the second as he waits for an answer Adam will never give. Even after he's lowered himself to Adam’s level. To the dirt and where the worms crawl.

        After a moment of silence , Gansey places his hand behind Adam’s head, firm but gentle, until his fingers are wound in his short hair and Adam clenches his teeth. For a second, he thinks Gansey’s going to kiss him again, their noses are so close.

        But he waits.

         He waits because he sees Adam flinch, and something on his face seems to break. “I would…. I would do _anything_ Adam, to convince you that you’re loved. I would kiss you a thousand times. I would never kiss you again, if that’s what you wanted.” he tells him .”Just,” Gansey takes a shaky breath. “Don’t leave me like that. You’re always leaving and I—”

        Adam can count on his fingers the amount of times he’s seen Richard Campbell Gansey III this unravelled. This unsure of himself and his words. The Presidential Gansey voice is so far from his lips at this moment Adam struggles to imagine it ever coming from them at all. Instead Gansey’s face is pale, and rain soaked, and intoxicatingly earnest.

        And for a split second, Adam believes him.

       That when he says love, it’s a word that holds weight, and Adam wonders why he can’t bring himself feel it too. That he’s worthy.

        But Gansey’s palm is warming his scalp, and Adam can at least feel that. How even in this storm Gansey is a warmth, and a comfort. He feels it as a shiver trails its way from his spine and down Gansey’s arm. There isn’t a part of Gansey left that hasn’t surrendered himself entirely to this classic, Henrietta thunderstorm for Adam’s sake alone.

        His fingers shift in his hair, and Adam’s moves his head ever slightly to the motion. “Adam?” Gansey presses again, and his other hand is still firm on Adam’s shoulder, and finally Adam rips his fingers from the dirt.

        The second time they kiss, it’s Adam pulling Gansey close, and he melts as the petrichor blends on Gansey’s breath. The relief washing over him. Over Adam. Over them both.

        Their lips collide and Adam can feel how Cabeswater returns, creeping into his conscience how kudzu climbs up and consumes. But it’s quiet this time. It’s softer, and as Adam tastes what it’s like for Gansey to grin into his mouth, Adam realizes that’s because this is him.

        This isn’t Cabeswater. Not right now.

       It’s just watching.

 

       Around them the thunder is roaring, shaking the ground even as Adam leans back and pulls Gansey with him. Down until his stupid, mud covered chinos are straddling his hips, and for once Adam can’t even bring himself to be angry about Gansey’s complete disregard for his clothing. Because on his polo are ten, sharp and dirt colored lines dragging down his spine, courtesy of no one's hands but Adams.

        Gansey presses his mouth into the crook of Adam’s neck, and he’s so close now that Adam thinks he might drown. He can feel as Gansey’s lips kiss softly along his jaw and trail up to his good ear, and when Gansey whispers he almost shudders.

        “Wh...what?” Adam asks, because he entirely misses it the first time Gansey speaks.

        Gansey lets out a small laugh, tickling his skin. “ I said...we should get inside. I don’t want you getting sick.”

        The words take a moment to register, and then Adam’s hand moves just enough to weakly smack the back of Gansey’s head. Then his fingers disappear in the dark, damp locks. “Not yet,” says Adam.

        From their position he can feel the rain still falling, from the sky, from Gansey, and everything is quiet. Truly quiet. And Adam is terrified that it’s going to all disappear the moment their bodies separate.

       “So is this…?” Gansey asks, pulling back just enough that he can look down at the boy below him, and Adam watches as his eyes go wide.

        “What?” he asks, because the way Gansey is staring at him now isn’t something he’s ever seen before. And above him Gansey shakes his head, and shifts to wipe the water from his face.

       “Nothing you’re just—” he stops, and laughs awkwardly. “You’re gorgeous.”

        Adam feels the heat rising to his cheeks and with his hand still in Gansey’s hair, he grips him tight, and pulls him down for another kiss.  
       “Shut up.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Right so if Gansey was technically always connected to/saved by Cabeswater and it’s all just a magical loop of time shenanigans then what does this mean for his relationship with Adam? Like Adam sacrificed himself to Cabeswater but Cabeswater sacrificed itself to Gansey and its an all knowing magical forest so it had to have known and I just.  
> I have so many questions about Feelings and Emotions and this probably strays from canon in terms of shifty Cabeswater magic but frankly I Do Not Care. I get to use my Arboreal Feelings tag again.
> 
> I really just wanted Adansey makeouts in the rain ok. I am a simple man.


End file.
